


All In

by iloveyoudie



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Morse isn't a morning person, Sleepiness, Stealing clothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 23:20:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21044453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iloveyoudie/pseuds/iloveyoudie
Summary: Morse yawned, pulled away, and resembled some sort of over-sized gastropod as he trailed his blankets in a train behind him and oozed his way back into bed.





	All In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [guardianoffun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/guardianoffun/gifts).

> For Tee, who did not ask for this, but I offered.  
We are going to pretend Morse is still living in a tiny flat.

Max rolled over from his stomach to his side in the warm bed and the body next to him was forced to also shift to accommodate it. Morse made a sleepy sort of grunting sound about having to move. He went from having his limbs tossed across Max’s and his face pressed into the seam of his shoulder, to curling on his side and pawing at the doctor to spoon against his back. Max did, initially, tucking himself behind Morse and locking an arm around his waist as he battled his increasing consciousness and buried his face in the nape of the detective’s neck. 

It had gotten chilly too early this year and the fall’s first frost had come a week ago which was fine and dandy for a pair of men who preferred dressing in layers. They’d tossed an extra comforter on the bed - a new bed for Morse, a bigger bed to prove his dedication to his new partner - but there was no good combatant to the chilly air in Morse’s flat or the ancient heating system that only now was clunking loudly to life and could be felt through the floorboards and walls. 

Time was immaterial in these early golden hours, when Max hovered on the border of true consciousness and could enjoy Morse being a creature of comfort. It was before the rough bite of the real world cut in, before each of them assembled and donned their armor for the day, and they were just warm things who craved one another away from egos and expectations and edges. Unfortunately once the claws of wakefulness sunk in, it was harder and harder to keep it at bay. Max could feel the heat and water humming through the pipes, could hear the birds chittering their early calls from the street, hear the lorries rumble past on their morning errands, and even focusing on Morse’s even breathing and the rise and fall of his chest under his arm wasn’t enough to lull him back to sleep. 

Max shifted again and eased himself away but Morse kept moving back against him. Every centimeter of freedom he gained was quickly scooted away until Max’s back was pressed to the wall and Morse was rolling to face him and his glassy blue eyes cracked accusingly. He pressed close and slung his arms and legs around him and pressed himself into the curve of Max’s neck. 

“I’m getting up, love,” Max yawned, unable to resist wrapping his arms around the clingy man beside him once more. 

Morse made a tickle of a sound into his neck that was reminiscent of a ‘No’. 

“Yes,” He tried to push Morse’s head away but he’d latched on like a koala, arms and legs clamped around his body, and so Max used it against him and rolled them until Morse was against the wall and Max could writhe out of his arms and free himself. 

Morse grumbled as Max slipped out of the bed and into the chilly room. He latched onto a pillow instead and pulled the duvet up to his eyes, and watched Max with a bleary gaze as the doctor moved across the room to turn the kettle on before taking himself to the loo. When he returned he was covered in goose pimples and flipped through his clothing for a jumper only to find it missing. As he lifted his head to glance at Morse he found the other man wearing said jumper and sitting up in bed with his lower half swaddled in the duvet like the great smoking caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland. Any question about why Morse looked so angry would be met with the usual response - he was angry at everything. Sun. Being Awake. Sounds. Cold. Max moving. Being Awake (again). So Max didn’t bother asking. 

He just shivered his way to the kettle in his underclothes, picked a mug (rinsing it in caution), and made himself a cuppa. With a glance back to see if Morse wanted one, he found him several feet closer. He was out of the bed now, sitting in a chair with his feet tucked up and still bundled in the blanket. Only his naked toes peeked out from under the bottom and he had the comforter pulled over his head like Mother Theresa. 

Even as a miserable wreck in the mornings, Max found him irresistibly cute. 

“Cuppa?” Max fished another mug out of the tray by the sink and this time when he glanced back at Morse he found him wearing Max’s glasses and blinking owlishly behind them with his nose scrunched at the strength of the script. 

Max couldn’t help a laugh, “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

He made them both up as his legs went from chilly to freezing and his shoulders prickled visibly in the air. Only now could he feel even the slightest warmth coming from the radiator in the wall, “Not sure what your game is with all this.” 

“Come back to bed,” Morse yawned. The glasses were off again, sitting on the table top, and when Max moved close with the tea, Morse offered them out and Max bowed his head so they could be pushed onto his face. Morse followed them for a kiss that had both of them smiling, “Bring the tea. I don’t care. Didn’t get a bigger bed so you’d get out of it.” 

“Only if I can put the radio on,” Max agreed. Morse hadn’t taken his mug yet, he was too tangled up in his cocoon, so Max held both and waited for the verdict, “And you try just a bit to wake up.” 

“Fine,” Morse yawned, pulled away, and this time resembled some sort of oversized gastropod as he trailed his blankets in a train behind him and oozed his way back into bed. 

Max followed, setting their tea on the side table and waiting for the slighter man to finish fussing with the bedding. Morse finally stripped off Max’s jumper and handed it over and it was nice and warm as he pulled it on and it held the lingering smell of Morse’s shampoo. Max mulled over the pleasantly content feeling that even these cranky mornings with Morse gave him as he went to click on the radio and flip to a news station. 

Morse groaned and buried his face in the pillow. 

Max finally settled beside him, propping a pillow behind his back and tucking the covers around his waist. He waited for Morse to get comfortable, that is to say, he waited for Morse to decide just how he’d drape himself over him. 

Morse chose to angle his shoulders against Max’s hip and drop his head in his lap. His eyes were already closing when Max’s fingers began to sift through his hair, first brushing it from his forehead and then curling it around his fingers idly. 

“Comfortable?”  


Morse hummed. 

“You said you’d try and wake up.” 

Morse hummed again. 

“Your tea will get cold.” 

Morse turned his face to try and bite him, but there were too many covers in the way and his halfhearted effort remained only that - effort. 

Max chuckled and reached for his own mug as the news droned at a low volume. He was tempted to snatch a few more minutes of sleep himself now, but he wouldn’t give Morse the satisfaction. Instead he just existed in the placid distant drone of the world waking up as the sun finally struck sharp and gold through the shades and the sounds of life increased bit by bit as the minutes ticked away. 

With his hands in his love’s hair and their bodies tucked together, warm and close and secure, even with all the trouble, Max found there were much worse ways to spend a morning. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey look I wrote a quick thing in one sitting and didn't agonize over it for months.  
Go me.
> 
> Titled from All In by The Fjords


End file.
